


For A Chance to Sleep

by Repeatinglitanies



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Casual cruelty, Dark Five, Don’t copy to another site, F/M, Masturbation, Obsessive Five, Sleep Deprived Five, Stolen Property, They don’t have powers here, sleeping disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 01:17:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20381293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Repeatinglitanies/pseuds/Repeatinglitanies
Summary: Aug 27 Prompt: No Powers AUQuentin Quinn, better known as Five by his work colleagues, had not had a wink of sleep for over a month. He would jump at any chance to resolve this situation.





	For A Chance to Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't take do much research on drug addiction or insomnia. So please don't treat this fic as a guide on how to treat insomnia or how to deal with an addict

Quentin Quinn, better known as Five by his work colleagues, had not had a wink of sleep for over a month. The doctors he visited all proverbially scratched their heads at this. They ran a battery of tests and still couldn’t give him a satisfactory explanation. Over the course of the week, he had acquired several brands of sleeping pills, none of which worked on him.

He had tried drinking warm milk and alcohol, tiring himself out, even counting sheep in his head (for God’s sake). But the hours simply passed. And before he knew it, the sun was up again.

A lesser man would have been in the ground or a mental asylum by now.

Trying to figure out what caused his insomnia was a fruitless attempt as well. Because as far as Quentin knew, he had done nothing out of the ordinary (at least for him) in the days and weeks leading up to the night when he found himself unable to drift off to slumberland.

It had crossed his mind that perhaps the nature of his job was starting to get to him. And it manifested by causing him to lose sleep.

However, he quickly wrote that one off.

While yes, Quentin made his living out of dismantling organizations, governments and even people’s lives if need be, he never felt guilty about it. To him, it was just a job that needed doing. And he received monetary compensation commensurate with his impeccable performance and results. 

Did he take pleasure in causing the ruin of countless lives? No. Quentin was no sadist. He didn’t get his thrills from the suffering of others. But he entered into his current line of work with eyes wide open, knowing full well that his every action on behalf of the shadowy organization that routinely credits his bank account would involve collateral damage.

He wasn’t in it for the money either. At the time the offer was made, he had just quit his cushy desk job developing algorithms to make predictions on stocks and bonds. His previous employers made a metaphorical killing out of his work. That is, until his current company dispatched him to take down his old one.

So no, his reasons for taking and sticking to his present job was neither sadistic or economic. He simply enjoyed the challenge and mental stimulation his current employers presented with each new assignment.

Quentin wouldn’t say he was happy exactly. But he was certainly feeling proud of his accomplishments.

Hence, he was at a loss with his insomnia. It was the only crinkle to his seemingly fulfilling life. And it started causing problems at work.  
He began to lose the focus he was renowned for with colleagues catching him zoning out in the middle of briefings. Thankfully, his assignments had gone without a hitch. But his sense of accomplishment was waning in favor of lethargy only interrupted by near-homicidal bouts of irritability.

Quentin knew he reached a low point when a scrawny junkie managed to steal his wallet. He had been walking down an alley in an attempt to wear himself down. Instead of his usual hypervigilance and situational awareness, Quentin was too focused on dissecting his current predicament to notice the druggy right behind him making a grab for his back pocket. 

Quentin wasn’t totally out of the game as his quick reflexes enabled him to hold on to the junkie’s scarf. Perhaps one can blame it on weeks without sleep, but he had every intention of choking the life out of this asshole who happened to have the misfortune to annoy him at the wrong place and time.

However, Quentin’s speed didn’t match the junkie’s who immediately detached the fabric from his neck. Quentin was sure he could have caught up had he decided to give chase. However, luck was on the junkie’s side. Because his phone started ringing. 

Only the Handler knew his number and she would only call about a job.

He had the presence of mind not to put any sensitive, work-related information on his wallet. No doubt, the drug addict was really just after his cash, which was money he didn’t really need. And he could easily have the two credit cards on it cancelled.

All in all, the wallet and its contents were no great loss.

Unfortunately, the successful pilfering of his property almost right under his nose was a great blow to his pride. And he couldn’t have that.

He made a promise to find that damn junkie and make him pay not only for the loss of pride but also for his insomnia. Quentin knew he wasn’t being rational. But wasn’t that a side-effect of being awake for weeks?

By the next morning, after preparing for his assignment, sanity had returned. He was still going to find that thief. But Quentin was more amenable to letting him live. Under certain conditions, of course.

_______________

Vanya loved her foster brother. Truly, she did. But after years of being lied to and stolen from just to feed his habit, she had come to the point of feeling simply resigned whenever he turned up her door. Had things been different, she would have loved to invite him in, cook him his favorite dishes and ask how he was doing.

But all he ever wanted was one thing. Since Vanya didn’t have it, he came to her for the means to acquire it: money. At first, she refused only to come back to a trashed apartment. The money she’d been saving for a new violin bow gone along with anything that could be sold and carried with two hands.

Oh, she had really raged after the third time this had happened. Resolved never to see him or allow him back in her life again in hopes that it might make him decide to go to rehab. That never panned out. At a certain point, Vanya had realized that nothing she could do would save Klaus. He had to decide that for himself.

At the same time, despite everything that had happened, she couldn’t leave him out in the cold with no one to turn to. So when he needed a place to crash, she let him sleep on her couch. Vanya never had more than a few dollars in cash at home which she would leave in the open so that it would distract him from setting his sights on her violin, the only valuable thing left in her apartment.

But there was something different with Klaus when he came by three months ago, her favorite blue and white scarf in hand. At least he brought it back in one piece. Klaus had a habit of borrowing her clothes. That those clothes had not been washed yet didn’t matter to him.

Vanya had no doubt that nothing changed in terms of his substance abuse. But he seemed agitated which was unusual for Klaus, who always put up a jolly front.

He wouldn’t tell her what was wrong. Eventually, Vanya had no choice but to give up on her questioning. 

When she woke up the next morning, Klaus was still fast asleep on the couch. Not wanting to wake him, she slipped out quietly. Klaus knew she had leftovers in the fridge so she wasn’t worried about him going hungry. She just hoped he’d still be home when she got back so that she could get to the truth of what was bothering him.

But for now, she had to rush to the Icarus Theater. It was her first day as first chair to a new orchestra and Vanya did not want to give anyone reason to question her dedication.

When she got back, Klaus was gone. For once, he tidied up her place before leaving. But as per usual, he had taken a piece of clothing slated for the washing machine. Though it escaped her why he chose that. Her “Come To The Dork Side” t-shirt didn’t even fit him. But then again, Klaus did have an eclectic taste in clothes.

Klaus started visiting her every week, returning whatever he borrowed in almost pristine condition only to borrow another the next day after tidying up the place. At first, Vanya wondered if Klaus had begun using her home as a place to stash drugs. But an intensive search of her apartment, including possible loose floorboards and vents turned up nothing.

Was Klaus’ recent behavior weird and suspicious? Well, it definitely was out of the ordinary for Klaus. But then again, it was a vast improvement from finding her home a mess and valuables gone.

Besides, her first solo performance was coming up. She was busy. And since Klaus seemed to be no worse than usual, she was able to focus on her music.

____________________

The orchestra, or the people in charge of finding sponsors for the orchestra, held a gala event right after the concert. And Vanya was in a mood to celebrate given how she had churned out her best performance to date. So far, she’d been met with praise and a round of applause.

But far too soon, she began to feel out of place. After all, Vanya had never been to an event this lavish. Her dark suit, worn during her performance, seemed so paltry next to the gowns and jewelry the other women put on. Besides, she could only stand the attention on stage. All she had to do was belt out the music she had poured time and sweat to. Off-stage, she was expected to make small talk.

But she could think of nothing to say to these people other than “thank you for your support” or “pleasure to meet you.”

So when the opportunity presented itself, Vanya found a secluded balcony. Perhaps the fresh air would boost her up in confidence. She took a deep breath in. And then another breath out.

Nope. She really didn’t care to go back out there. All she wanted was to go back home, replay her performance in her head, maybe have a glass of wine and then go to sleep.

“Are you ok?”

Vanya almost jumped. She hadn’t noticed anyone come up to her. 

The light revealed it to be one of the sponsors. She had just met him a few minutes before but couldn’t remember his name. Because from the very first moment she saw him, Vanya was struck by his seemingly luminescent green eyes. She didn’t even hear a word of what he had said to her earlier.

“Are you feeling unwell, Ms Hargreeves?” he said, not unkindly though there was a detachment in his voice. 

Come to think of it, she remembered how most people avoided him. Not even bothering to make small talk with him. For that matter, she couldn’t even recall him wanting to interact with the others either.

“I’m fine. Thanks for asking,” she tried to smile in reassurance but he didn’t seem to buy it.

To make matters worse, it was at that point in time, with Vanya right in front of him trying to make her way back, that she tripped.

He was fast though and caught her before she hit the floor. And for a moment, she felt a sort of electricity going through her as if her body felt a jolt at the feel of his arm around her waist. Truth be told, it had been far too long since anyone held her this intimately. And it didn’t help that she felt an attraction for this man whose name she didn’t even know, didn’t manage to catch because she was too busy staring at his too green eyes.

If he asked her to spend the night with him, would she accept? Under normal circumstances, Vanya’s alarm bells would go off and she would absolutely refuse. But something told Vanya that nothing about this man was normal. She would recognize him from a crowd. 

And this overwhelming pull she felt for him was not helping her rational brain from making the prudent decision.

So she didn’t know. If he asked to go home with her or to take her home with him, she might actually say yes. It was crazy, in her opinion. But the higher and lower parts of her brain were in disagreement. And even if she thought it to be a walk on the wild side for her, she might actually do it.

But as soon as both her feet were firmly supporting her, the man let go. And the rush of relief and disappointment had threatened to overwhelm her.

Then, his intent gaze had her frozen in motion, made her feel like a deer caught in the headlights or a butterfly pinned on display. Still, a part of her felt that thrill of excitement.

“Perhaps you should sit down and I’ll call you a doctor. There’s bound to be a specialist here somewhere with the amount of walking cheque-donors around,” he said as he made his way to the door separating the balcony from the ballroom, his tone morphing from one of concern to disdain as he started talking about the other gala attendees.

But Vanya was too distracted to notice the subtle change. All that she could think of now was that she definitely did not want a doctor. Instead, what she felt she needed was more time to breathe. Being around more people she didn’t know how to even converse with was definitely out of the question. And someone asking for a doctor in the middle of what was supposed to be a celebration was far too much attention. 

So she caught his arm. Again, she felt that spark even through the layers of clothing preventing an actual touch.

“No, please! I think I’m just tired,” she managed to blurt out as she felt seared by something not wholly unpleasant while his intense gaze was on her.

In the end, he called her a cab and insisted on escorting her to the waiting car. The gala event was spacious and it was about a ten minute walk from the balcony to the driveway. Throughout that time, Vanya had her arm wrapped around his and was blushing all the way. She hoped no one noticed.

He gallantly opened the cab door and held onto her hand as she stepped inside, only letting go to shut the door. 

The cab driver was already asking for their destination when Vanya realized she hadn’t even thanked the man for his kindness. In fact, she still didn’t know his name.

She asked the driver to wait a second and hurriedly opened the car window. The cab was an old model that required her to manually roll the window down. Vanya felt her heart beating and hoped that she didn’t look too sweaty from nerves and excitement as she looked out the window.

“I’m sorry. I almost forgot to thank you, Mr….”

The man gave her a smile that she just might take to her dreams.

“Quinn. Quentin Quinn. Have a good night, Ms Hargreeves.”

And with that, she was amazed that she could still utter a reciprocal good night.

The driver was just amused at how awkward Vanya was. And patiently waited for her to rattle out the directions to her apartment. 

As the car drove away, Vanya looked back to find Quentin staring right back. And he had stayed in the same position until he faded from view.

____________

As soon as Quentin found the dealers, it was easy to track Klaus Hargreeves down. To be more precise, all Quentin had to do was lie in wait until Klaus eventually turned up.

The night Klaus stole from him, Quentin had fully intended to make the damn junkie suffer for the insult of managing to steal from him. But then, an almost miraculous thing happened as Quentin came home to study the only clue he had of the thief.

The scarf was well-made, certainly of a quality he didn’t expect someone like his thief could maintain. It lead Quentin to think the scarf might have been stolen or at the very least, recently acquired. Leaving nothing to chance, he took a whiff of the scarf. Then another. And then again another. The scent from the scarf was not unpleasant. For some reason, he found it comforting. Against his better judgment, he continued to inhale until he found his eyelids getting heavier. He managed to turn his head to the side so that his cheek (and not his nose) hit his table.

The next day found him determined to find that thief. This time, it was less about soothing the blow to his pride and more about finding the cure for his insomnia. 

And when the third night with the scarf giving him the best night’s sleep of his life, his determination to get to that junkie turned even stronger.

It didn’t take long. And he managed to corner Klaus in an alley similar to where his wallet had been stolen. This time, Quentin did his homework and made sure there was no way out.

Quentin normally took no pleasure in his victim’s fear and suffering. But this asshole did metaphorically kick him when he was down. So Quentin would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it a little.

He discovered, unsurprisingly, that Klaus was a coward and a liar. Willing to offer Quentin back the money he stole even when both of them knew that he had already spent it. When all that did was earn Klaus a backhand to the face, he offered information Quentin had no interest in. Klaus liked to talk and talk. At some point, Klaus’ words started to not make sense. But he kept on talking. That is, until Quentin asked about who owned the scarf.

Klaus lied again, saying it was his. But Quentin knew it couldn’t be, he didn’t detect the scent of the scarf from Klaus. And he already suspected Klaus stole it from someone.

But the way Klaus clammed up about it made him think that Klaus, for all his cowardice and deception, actually had a backbone when it came to someone he cared about. And while true, there were a lot of things Quentin could do to make Klaus talk and to get what he wanted, Quentin was beginning to suspect that subjecting Klaus to further torture would actually harm his chances.

Quentin loathed having to do it. But he told Klaus the truth. That he hadn’t been able to sleep for weeks. He had tried everything to no avail. And the only thing that got him to sleep was the scarf with its mysterious scent. He had the scarf analyzed and there was no unnatural compound on it. Nothing to scientifically explain why it helped him sleep. So Quentin had to know where and who it came from.

The scent of the scarf was fading. And Quentin feared that with it would come the return of his insomnia.

Quentin fully expected Klaus to laugh in his face. But all he found was pity.

“You’re an addict,” was all the junkie said.

Quentin had half a mind to backhand him again. How dare this lowlife make them to be equals?

“If you let me go, I’ll supply you with three month’s worth of that scent. Hopefully, you’ll manage to sleep on your own soon. But only for three months. Is that a deal?”

Of course, Quentin accepted. What choice did he have?

But that didn’t mean he would be solely dependent on Klaus’ good graces. Quentin did his research and found out the true owner of the scarf: Klaus’ foster sister, Vanya. 

She led a quiet life. Not much friends. According to previous colleagues, she was dedicated to her music. According to some of her students and their parents, she was patient and conscientious. One of the best teachers they’ve encountered. 

Other than being a talented musician and teacher, there was nothing remarkable about her. Nonetheless, he was drawn to her. And he had to find out more about her. As the weeks went by, Quentin found that he no longer needed to depend on Vanya’s clothing to sleep. That didn’t stop him from taking it to bed.

So when the opportunity to actually meet her in person presented itself, he took it. The money he donated was merely a drop in the bucket that was his fortune. To meet Vanya, it was a small price to pay. So small that he felt like he had to pay more for the privilege.

When he managed to save her from planting her face on the floor, he caught a whiff of that glorious scent. He went hard at the sensation of her small waist held back by his right arm. Quentin found himself thinking of how it would be if he actually had Vanya herself in his bed. He was sure no sleeping would be done. But perhaps he would willingly forego that for a different kind of pleasure.

Quentin briefly contemplated simply picking her up and taking her home with him. But decided against it. He was no animal. And besides, while he did enjoy a rough and vigorous fucking, he found that he wanted the first time with her to be a slower, perhaps gentler, exploration.

As much as his libido raged against it, he let her go. Instead, Quentin called her a cab to take her home.

By the time her cab was out of sight, he knew that Klaus was right. Quentin was addicted to her. He would see her again. And judging from the look in her eyes, she wouldn’t be opposed to it.

But for now, Quentin would have to content himself with thinking of her as he touched himself, imagining how she would sound and look as he brought her to climax. He had every confidence they’d get there sooner or later. For his sake, he hoped it would be soon.


End file.
